


Falling For You, Struggling With You

by Conatum



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Almost Drowning, Anxiety Attacks, Concussions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Wonwoo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, SO IM TAGGING EVERYONE, every one has emotions and thats okay, its all okay, leader Seungcheol, leader jihoon, listen i mention every one, protective mingyu, shifting pov, some trauma symptoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conatum/pseuds/Conatum
Summary: "The rig jerked down slightly, mechanical whirring drowning out the music they had been playing in the background. The shock of the sudden movement and the cold water was almost overwhelming, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep his eyes up at the designated point. He was going to be allowed off of this damn rig.“Cut!” was shouted from the side and he relaxed. For a moment.Too much happened in too few seconds.He saw a large shape looming above him just a moment before a sharp pain pierced through the back of his head and he cried out and water rushed into his mouth and then…Nothing."Basically Wonwoo gets hurt and its a focus on everyone being caring and protective and apparently I process trauma through showers so we are gonna ignore that.Please read notes for warnings!
Relationships: Background: - Relationship, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Everyone/Everyone, Jeon Wonwoo/Everyone, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, OT13, light:
Comments: 47
Kudos: 127





	1. From Bad to Worse

**Author's Note:**

> Skip if you don't like spoilers.
> 
> Wonwoo will get dropped into a pool, and hit on the head, causing him to almost drown. He is okay.
> 
> Mentions of CPR, drowning, concussions, being trapped on a sinking object, blood, ambulance, and EMTs. 
> 
> If any of this is triggering please be safe! Later chapters will have warnings as well, but I promise there is tons of fluff and cuddling and good old fashioned communication and competency.

“Wonwoo-ssi, we are going to have to reset, alright?” The voice of the assistant director was staticky and broken through the megaphone and young man forced himself not to wince at the ear grating sound, instead giving a thumbs up.

“Take your time,” he yelled back, voice barely heard above the whirring of machinery and the sloshing of the pool as he was carefully set back into place.  
The music video shoot was supposed to be easy. At least the aesthetic shots were supposed to be. While the dancing segments were always intense and muscle aching, but all he had to do now was sit and look vaguely attractive. Pretty easy when you have professional makeup and hair stylists and a disgustingly expensive jacket. 

It was stupid to even feel this way, but it wasn’t easy. Wonwoo was fucking miserable. He gasped as the rig dug into the bruises already forming on his back, shifting to pull his legs up to his chest, conserving what little body heat he had left. Water splashed around his ribs as the rig was lowered and moved the through the pool with a whine of machinery.

It was basic; attach him to a fantastically complicated, glorified swing, and hoist him drenched and dramatic out of the water. Nothing was going to go wrong; the pully system and rig had been rigorously tested, and there was an emergency diver on hand, who was really just a formality. The seatbelt currently digging into Wonwoos stomach made it impossible for him to fall into the pool- and even if he did, he could swim. Wonwoo was never one to be anxious, and today was no exception. 

Wonwoo glanced over at the other members, huddled in the corner out of the way of the staff on phones or scarfing down whatever snacks they had managed to find. It was almost funny, seeing them in their sparkly costumes with pristine hair and makeup, still as casual as ever. He waved half-heartedly at Jeonghan and Cheol, who were intently watching him, whispering to each other quietly. Since they had hoisted Wonwoo above the pool in this metal contraption, Wonwoo could have sworn their eyes hadn’t left him. He wasn’t going to complain, none of the members would. It was nice having the hyungs watching over them, having that protection and safety net. His eyes drifting back over to the tech, who were busying themselves with setting up for the shot. He caught sight of Mingyu intently listening to one of the camera men as he watched the monitor. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile slightly as he watched the talent sponge that was his roommate absorb as much information as physically possible. 

While usually videos of this scale were filmed in bouts, all of the members had moments in and around the pool, and it was more time effective to keep them all there for the time being. Wonwoo was just the first to go, due partially to Soonyoung’s well-worn competitive comments that always made him feel like he had something to prove. It had been an offhanded comment of Wonwoo not wanting to do the hard shots, but really Wonwoo was considering when he’d get to go home. He was lucky; if he got this out of the way, he’d get to leave first.

He didn’t feel very lucky right now though, breathing into his hands in a futile effort to keep them warm. Only problem with going first; you’re the test run. A shiver racked through his body, teeth now audibly clacking together. He would have sworn this pool had built in heaters the last time they were here. He missed the heating pack he had been clutching before the shoot began, the piles of jackets he could huddle under for warmth, the other members casual closeness. Without all the water-proof makeup on his face, his lips would be blue.

The others in the room could viscerally sense his discomfort and Soonyoung shifted, guiltily refusing to watch. They all knew Wonwoo got cold easily, that he got tired, that his body ached, and his head ached, and he felt nauseous almost daily. Often the quietest of the bunch wasn’t passive and silent due to unease around them, but simply being exhausted, hungry, or in pain. While the group often ignored his discomfort per his request, it put them all on edge, watching him struggle like this. Wonwoo knew that if he said the word, he would be out of there in a second, members physically jumping into the pool to drag him out. 

But he stayed silent.

Everyone was going to have to go through something uncomfortable to make the video look good. Besides, the tech seemed to be having difficulty, and they didn’t need a whiny privileged idol telling them to hurry up. It gave Mingyu a chance to really understand the complications of directing and photography, right? Doing nothing was literally the least he could do. 

“Wonwoo-ssi? We are going to try the shot again, okay? How are you feeling?” Wonwoo was shaken out of his thoughts, turning to see the assistant director standing by Cheol and Jeonghan at the side of the pool, megaphone in hand. He gave a thumbs up to the assistant before falling into position, forcing himself to relax as the camera began rolling. 

The rig jerked down slightly, mechanical whirring drowning out the music they had been playing in the background. He dipped his head under the water for a second, willing himself to be calm and collected as it froze, before pulling him back up. The shock of the sudden movement and the cold water was almost overwhelming, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep his eyes up at the designated point. Ease began to settle as his feet were lifted out of the water too. He was going to be allowed off of this damn rig. 

“Cut!” was shouted from the side and he relaxed. For a moment. 

Too much happened in too few seconds. 

A whirring noise began as the cord pulling the swing was released, the safety catching, the tension buckling the arm over the pool. Panic racked through his body and he glanced up just as the safety snapped, the rig dropped out from beneath him and he was falling, dragged down by the bench, plummeting towards the pool. Shouts echoed through the small space as he and the rig crashed down into the icy cold water. The air was pushed from his lungs as he made contact with the frigid cold water. Frantically he began pulling at the safety belt that held him to the seat, but it wouldn’t release. He barely had any chance to take a breath, and the rig had begun to pull him down, spluttering and flailing to stay afloat. Surrounding him was creaks and groans of the mechanism, tightening around his stomach, catching on his legs and arms as he tried to paddle to the surface. 

His ankle came into contact with the metal of the snapped arm and he pressed his lips together to stop the water from entering, thrashing instead, panic gripping him as he struggled for air. He saw a large shape looming above him just a moment before a sharp pain pierced through the back of his head and he cried out and water rushed into his mouth and then…

Nothing.

Cheol was the first to react. Cheol was always the first to react. 

He tore off his jacket, jumping into the frigid water. The others froze, panic and confusion setting in. Mingyu shouted, lunging to follow his leader into the pool, but was held back by the swarm of staff. 

The emergency safety swimmer was already there, diving under the rig. Cheol followed, heart freezing at the sight of Wonwoo’s limp body being pulled by the rig, blood trickling black through the water. The safety diver cut the seat belt off of him as Cheol pulled the rig back. In tandem they grabbed onto the unconscious man, kicking frantically back to the surface.

A panicked sob escaped Jeonghan’s lips as Cheol and the diver emerged from the disturbed water, Wonwoo’s limp body cradled between them, a sickening trail of blood spreading like ink across the pool.

“Is he breathing? God damn it is he breathing?” Jeonghan pulled against the staff reaching out for Wonwoo, for Cheol, for his members… but they weren’t there. He held onto himself instead, sequins of his jacket digging into his fingers, leaving red crescents indented into his shivering hands. 

Cheol hefted himself up onto the edge, helping the diver roll Won up onto the side of the pool. The leader shook, holding the younger man’s head, blood seeping between his fingers. The logical part of his brain knew that head wounds bled easily, that this didn’t mean he was dead, but that part of his brain was overcome with absolute maddening fear, binding his chest with anxiety. The diver calmly moved Cheol away, hands flying in confident, practiced motions as he compressed Wonwoo’s chest. 

Again.

Again.

Again.

Wonwoo’s eyes flew open and the diver rolled him to the side as the young man’s body shook, vomiting into the pool. The diver dragged Cheol back down, reapplying his hand to Wonwoo’s head as he continued to heave and cough up pool water and bile. The leader desperately tried to ignore the contrast of the hot blood pooling in his hands and the bone aching cold of the water. 

“Stay back! Please everyone he’s fine, stay back!” The diver shouted to the staff, who renewed their hold on the struggling members.   
“Cheol?” Wonwoo mumbled, voice hoarse and shaking.

“I’m right hear sweetheart, it’s okay, stay with us babe, you’re gonna be fine,” Cheol grimaced he applied firmer pressure to the younger’s head, whimpers ripped from the younger’s throat. Staff flocked around them, pulling Cheol back, pulling Wonwoo up and away. Cheol protested but all focus was on Wonwoo, leaving him to kneel in water and blood and helplessly watch. They pushed the injured man into a chair, pressing towels to his head, covering him with more blankets and jackets. 

Wonwoo came too vomiting, pain searing through his head and body and everywhere. Everything was bright and loud and so, so far away. Cheollie was holding him, pushing into his head and it hurt. Why was Cheol hurting him? Cheol seemed upset. He heard someone shout in the distance-was it in the distance? He felt fuzzy and cold, and searing heat burned through his head and ribs. A gasp escaped his lips as his body was manhandled into a sitting position. He dully realized towels were being layered over him, someone holding onto his head. Why were there so many towels? He didn’t want towels he wanted Cheol. Where did Cheollie go.   
Something hot trickled down his face blurring his vision and he wiped it away, confusion and panic growing. Why was his hand all red? Was the water red? Across the pool he saw…his friends? His vision was too blurry- He didn’t have his glasses. He couldn’t remember why, he never did-But he could tell that they were staring at him. Why were they staring at him? Did he do something wrong again? He could hear sobs. Why were some of them crying? Seokmin shouldn’t cry he should smile. So should Mingyu. Where is Mingyu? He reached out to them, why couldn’t he get to them? Where they mad at him? 

There was someone kneeling down in front of him. No, now he couldn’t see them.

“No…no I need to…I need too…” He glanced around, trying to move, to get to them. They shouldn’t be upset. Were they mad at him? Why were they mad? His head spun, dizziness and nausea building up, high and tight in his stomach. He moaned, eyes squeezing shut as he lowered his head to his knees, hands clutching at his hair, only to be pushed away, more pressure applied to his head. 

Mingyu’s stomach twisted as he pulled against the camera crew. He looked so small, wrapped in towels and blankets, hunched over in panic as paramedics swarmed around him. Why don’t they understand. He needed to get to him. It would be okay if he could get to him, “Please I just need to get to him,” His voice broke pathetically, eyes unwavering from Wonwoo, “Please. He needs me.”

Jeonghan pulled away from the assistant director, not towards Wonwoo but instead rushing to Mingyu, hugging him tightly, burying his face in his chest. For once words were lost in his throat, and he physically leaned his weight into Mingyu, stopping him from moving closer. He fisted Mingyu’s jacket, sobbing in relief as Mingyu clung to him, fight draining from his body as they held each other, Jeonghan unable to look and Mingyu unable to look away. 

The others stood on the other side of the pool watching in horror. Fear rooted them in place, the nine remaining men holding onto each other as they watched the events across the hall unfold. They watched as Jeonghan and Mingyu pulled against the staff, as Cheol desperately tried to hold onto Wonwoo, as Wonwoo huddled in the chair, alone. 

Alone. 

Anger filled Chan, replacing the panic that sat heavy in his chest, “How the fuck could you let this happen?” he screamed in horror, glaring at the stunned crew.   
“No one could have known,” Joshua softly reminded, but he brought his hand up to Chan’s back, trying to stay composed, to remain calm, to be the oldest one there.   
Jun swayed in place, hand absently following the pattern of the medical team over Wonwoo’s face and head until Minghao and Seokmin stepped forward, the three interlocking their arms around each other. 

“Can we see him? Can we come over?” Seungkwan shouted, and Hansol naturally stepped closer to him, breath harsh and shaky, silent and waiting, “Please, is he okay? He was under for such a long time,” he mumbled to no one in particular, strong clear voice faltering as Vernon’s hand tightened in his.  
Soonyoung stood silently, guilt gripping his throat like a vice as he hugged his jacket close to himself.

“C’mon, everyone out, he needs space,” the director shouted, firmly guiding Jeonghan and Mingyu to the rest of the group. Cheol lagged behind, desperately staring at the unresponsive Wonwoo despite the urges of the staff. 

“No. No!” Soonyoung shouted, rushing forward, grasping out to Wonwoo. “He doesn’t need space, he needs us!”

“He needs the paramedics, Soonyoung!” The manager declared, grabbing the young man and ushering the group to the exit, further and further away from Wonwoo. 

The shoot was cut, the group informed by a distraught assistant that they should get out of their costumes and get back to their vans. She ignored their onslaught of questions, giving them a pitying shake of her head, “I don’t know” being her only answer. Seungcheol seethed, loudly arguing with the managers that he should be allowed to stay. It had taken Josh, Jeonghan, and Seungkwan to hold him back both verbally and physically, ushering him to the set-up costume and makeup room, away from the ambulance that had quickly arrived.

Despite carefully observing everyone around them, Minghao had not left Jun’s side, the holding his hand tightly, squeezing his fingers, trying, trying, trying so hard to remain calm, but his lip quivered and Jun gently rubbed his back. He watched as Seokmin stood passively, until Seungkwan shook his shoulder gently, beginning to assist in the removal of his costume, handing it silently to the stylist. 

Hansol appeared terrifyingly distant, even more quiet and spaced out than usual. Minghao’s heart stopped as he and Mingyu bumped into each other and what was almost a snarl let out from Mingyu’s throat. The younger stopped in shock, everyone turning to the two men, the tension palpable and Jihoon slowly stood, ready to separate them. But after a deep breath Mingyu quickly deflated, bringing a hand up to cup the back of Hansol’s neck, letting their foreheads rest together momentarily. Hansol closed his eyes, accepting the silent apology before giving the other rapper a grim smile, grabbing his bag and phone charger from the corner, and following the others as they reluctantly shuffled out. 

Soonyoung, Chan, and Cheol practically ripped themselves out of their costumes, Jeonghan silently standing by as they seethed in anger, short halting comments about the rig, about the pool, about Wonwoo, piercing through the shuffling and shaky whispers of the prepared room. Jeonghan felt all jumbled inside, panic over Wonwoo, fear that one of his members will hurt themselves over this, terror, panic, horror-

Calm. He was going to take care of them. He had to stay calm. 

It was the dynamic of the group. Jeonghan knew that, all of them did. There were those that became loud and angry, and those that became passive and quiet. It was second nature to them, and they knew how to deal with tension and conflict. But here the anxiety was stuck between the twelve, with no clear target, no clear exit. It boiled and seethed between them, panic and anger making their throats tighten and muscles tense.

Those who acted as mediators and calmers were just as shaken as those who acted out. It was hard to think responsibly for others when a piece of them was what felt like a mile away, blood pouring out of his head, soaked to the bone. Alone. They continued to get updates from the managers as they were piled into the vans to be bussed back to the dorms.

“Like a bunch of fucking children,” Jeonghan mumbled, as Seokmin’s hands gently ran over where the sequins had left imprints on his fingers and palms.   
Soonyoung, Cheol, Mingyu, and Chan had been separated into the four different vans, the members naturally dividing them, as they knew that their anger manifested into out bursts, and it would just be too much together. Mingyu had latched onto Minghao, who was still glued to Jun, the oldest of the three showing calmness and focus that he only revealed in times of emergency and distress. The vans were filled with murmurs and sniffles as they all tried to ignore the empty spot left for Wonwoo. Cheol continued to speak over the phone, rough and quick, demanding updates by the minute on Wonwoo’s condition, on knowing if there would be legal action, what the schedule was going to be now, anything he could think of. Anything to stop himself from curling into a ball and sobbing. Jeonghan was holding it together. He had to keep it together too. He had to.

Finally, they arrived at their dorm and they filed out, holding hands and arms and edges of sweaters as they made their way into their building. Despite now living in separate apartments, they naturally filed into the first, almost all still clinging to each other, piling onto the sofa, spilling into the kitchen. Like they were terrified if someone were out of their sight they would be hurt. Cheol pulled Josh tightly into a hug, letting the younger plant a gentle kiss on his forehead before each moved away, checking in with whoever Jeonghan hadn’t gotten a hold of yet. Soonyoung, however, stormed through to his room, slamming the door, and Jihoon sighed, quickly following to make sure he didn’t do anything “fucking stupid.” A nervous silence descended upon the men as they shifted numbly around the apartment and settled down to wait. 

Wonwoo was shaking, squeezing his hands in an attempt to stop, but it just made it worse. He was freezing cold, the studs and sparkles of his costume digging into his skin. Blood coated the inside of his mouth, from his teeth piercing into his tongue when he fell. His head pounded, his vision was blurry, and he was terrified. He let the paramedics lay him down in the back of the ambulance while they checked him out. He listened as the other members were pulled away, the familiar sound of their voices disappearing into the echoes of the paramedics bustling around him.

“Do you want to call your family?” One of the managers asked kindly, holding out his phone.

Wonwoo looked up in confusion, “Why would I need to call them? They were here. They saw what happened.” 

The manager nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket with a curious twist of his lips. Wonwoo let the paramedics poke and prod him, body limp in response to the professional, assured movements. They didn’t remove the wet clothing, instead layering more blankets over him, attempting to bring some heat to the shivering man. Bandages were wrapped around his head as words drifted over him, explaining to the managers that stiches would not be needed. 

“You have a choice, okay?” Wonwoo nodded at the distant voice that was probably speaking to him. 

“The cut is superficial. You may have a minor concussion. We can go to the hospital now, or you can go home, and we can go tomorrow. Your choice.”

Wonwoo cringed, the thought of this continuing for any longer made him feel ill. He was just so tired. And cold.

“Home,” He managed to croak out, voice small and lost. 

“I’ll take you home,” The manger put a gentle hand on his shoulder. His mind drifted as the emergency staff explained what needed to be done for him. Or at least he assumed so. Wonwoo heard him talking on the phone to someone, and next thing he knew he was in a car, being handed bandages and his clothing with a pitiful glance from a staff member that made somehow made him feel even worse. 

Just get home, Wonwoo repeated to himself, clutching the towels closer to himself, when really all he wanted was his members. 

Just get home.


	2. I want to cherish our warmth, So no one can come between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The laugh turned to a shaky gasp at the sheer overwhelming sensation of everything that had happened. The feeling of his hyungs running their hands through his hair, Minghao gently rubbing his feet. Hands on his legs and stomach and neck, thumbs stroking small, comforting patterns into his skin. Mingyu solid underneath him, breath lulling him into sleep. Soonyoung, a warm assured pressure on top of him, weighing him down, keeping him from floating away. They were doing so much, and he felt guilty for leeching that comfort from them. Embarrassed at how nice it felt."
> 
> Wonwoo gets home and everyone, especially Mingyu, takes care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Seventeens "Home"
> 
> Skip if you don't like spoilers~
> 
> Mentions of blood, bruises, CPR, bandages, head wounds, concussion, general nausea, and confusion. If anything is triggering please be safe! Wonwoo (and everyone) are fine and there is a huge amount of fluff.

Cheol was in the parking lot, worrying a hole through his lip waiting for the manager’s car. He shivered in the night air, hair wet from the shower Josh had forced him to take, swearing that if they received a call they would let him know. He shook his head as the car pulled into the lot. He needed to focus on Wonwoo, on what was happening now in front of him, not memories of blood-stained knees and hands, not the smell of chlorine, not the salty taste of his tears as his leaned against the cold tile of the bathroom, shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion. 

Wonwoo was here. Wonwoo was okay. Focus on him. 

The moment the car stopped the leader stepped forward, opening the passenger door to reveal his member, still huddled shivering under towels and blankets, but safe. Home. Seungcheol helped him out and the younger practically melted into his leader, letting the other man control his movements. He distantly heard Cheol and the manager talking about something, his own name being dropped back and forth, but he couldn’t hold onto the words, instead burying his face into the leader’s neck, breathing in the scent of shampoo and warm and Cheol. 

Seungcheol said his goodbyes to the manager, assuring him that they would be in contact about what they were doing next, whatever that meant. Wonwoo allowed himself to be led into the apartment, half carried up the stairs, nodding at Seungcheol’s quiet words of encouragement and assurances. 

They arrived at the dorm already open, Mingyu and Soonyoung waiting in the doorway. As soon as they entered Mingyu pulled him in for a hug, arms snugly fitting around his waist despite the piles of towels and blankets. Soonyoung was quickly behind him, mirroring Mingyu as he clung onto Wonwoo. Wonwoo let himself be held, thoughts and comments receding just as quickly as they crashed through his mind, slippery and unable to be focused on. God he just wanted to sleep. 

“We need to keep him awake,” Seungcheol informed everyone quickly and calmly, “It may be a concussion, but he was most likely knocked out from the shock. It was a superficial cut, which is why he isn’t in the hospital. But, because he was unconscious for a period of time, we need to monitor him, okay? We need to check his bandages too.” 

The members nodded and Seungkwan squeezed past the trio, quietly closing the dorm door, “How are you feeling?” He asked gently, letting his fingertips run over Wonwoos cheek.

Tired, scared, embarrassed, angry, guilty- “Cold,” He managed to get out, and he figured that was good enough. 

“Yeah well he’s still in his fucking costume. He needs a shower, we can rebandage his head after,” Jihoon stated, already examining the bandages left to them by the medical team.

“I don’t think he should be alone. Can I help you?” Mingyu asked quietly, cupping Wonwoo’s face. The older man struggled for a moment, before giving up on words and nodding to Mingyu with a small smile. Josh and Jun moved quickly ahead of them, starting the shower to heat it up and grabbing pajamas for both men. 

Seokmin and Minghao pried Soonyoung off of Wonwoo, instead hugging him tightly as Mingyu led Wonwoo to the bathroom, stopping outside the door. 

“Hyung, if you want me to leave, or want someone else at any point, just… just let me know, okay? Or tap out, or something, okay?” Mingyu waited for another nod from him before echoing the motion and opening the door to the already steam filled bathroom.

The whole group had been showering at the same time since debut days; to them just another part of their shared life. Schedules start earlier and earlier, and rehearsals go later and later, and everyone wants to spend less time awake. Even outside of professional life, a member would get drunk or sick and it was just easier to shower together and help. 

Showering at the same time and showering together, however, were still two very differently things. Recently, showering together hadn’t been for necessity, but for pleasure. It was a new side that many of the members had begun finding, which ended up with a ruling saying whatever they chose to do together was fine but for fucks sake stop using up all the hot water in the morning. 

But there was nothing sexual about this. Despite being shaky and exhausted, it didn’t resemble the giddy after practice showering, or even when the flu went around and they had to hold each other up to wash the sweat off. This was tentative and careful and like it was cherished in a way that made Wonwoo’s chest ache. The way Mingyu carefully undressed him, soft, warm hands skimming over his skin as he peeled off his layers of clothing that had grown stiff from drying in the cold night air. He was so, so gentle, kneeling to unlace his shoes one by one, placing Wonwoo’s hand atop his head to balance as he helped him step out of his pants. Calm began overtaking Wonwoo’s mind along with the fuzziness. 

Gyu would take care of him. Gyu would keep him safe. 

Mingyu shucked off his own shirt and pants quickly and guided him into the spray of the water, stepping in close after him. Won sighed as the warm water hit his skin, relaxing into Mingyu, letting the younger sway them slowly back and forth, hands rubbing gentle circles along his back and neck. Everything was still such a blur. His eyes drifted closed as he leaned against Mingyu’s broad chest, the chlorine of the pool and the last spots of dried bloods washing away. Mingyu shook him gently, pressing feather soft kisses over his face and shoulders, careful not to get near the bandages.

“Hey, Won. Stay with me baby. You can’t go to sleep yet,” His heart nearly broke at the whine pulled from his roommate, but his eyes fluttered open on command, bloodshot and tired. 

Mingyu sighed in sympathy, kissing the crown of his head, and something possessive dug into his chest. He wouldn’t say it out loud, especially not right now, but the word “mine” seemed to dance on his tongue.

They stayed relatively silent throughout the shower. Mingyu lathered Wonwoo with Minghao’s nice body wash, desperately trying to ignore the blood dripping down the drain, keeping himself calm and precise for Wonwoo’s sake. Wonwoo was sluggish, trying to keep up, trying to help, but his eyes drifted open and closed, and despite the hot shower, he kept curling up into Mingyu like he was freezing.

He was. 

When both of their skin was pink from heat and no traces of blood or chlorine were present, Mingyu turned the shower off, grabbing a towel.

Wonwoo shirked away from the towel momentarily, the rough feeling against his skin replacing his member’s touch- but Mingyu didn’t let the towel linger too long, keeping their hands intertwined as he simply dried him off with efficiency. 

“You’re doing a great job, Won,” Mingyu murmured, helping him into loose flannel pants and a huge sweatshirt, and that seemed to help the other man, though no verbal response was given. 

A thought shifted on the edge of Wonwoo’s consciousness, realizing passively that it was Mingyu’s sweatshirt he was now wearing. A small smile twitched at his lips for a moment; Josh must have known that this was what Mingyu would have gotten. All of the members had experienced the possessive protectiveness of Mingyu at one point or another, but it was always a special, overwhelming experience. The all-encompassing compassion and care he would smother them with would be unbearable if he wasn’t him. 

They entered their shared room to the murmur of members already present and waiting for them. Cheol sat on Mignyu’s bed with Chan and Minghao, the three discussing something in hushed whispers, stopping as soon as the pair came in. They smiled gently, expressions careful and soft. Wonwoo tried to smile back, but exhaustion and lingering confusion made it hard to do anything but be guided into the bed, Mingyu sitting up against the headboard, helping Wonwoo settle back against his chest. Mingyu’s thighs straddled his narrow hips, arms wrapping around his chest, holding him close and secure, without pressing too hard on his cracked and bruised ribs.

Minghao stood silently after they were settled, grabbing the quilted comforter he had brought from his room, covering the two men with it. It would have been a pleasant moment, if the lingering fear of what had occurred not just a few hours before didn’t hang over them, heavy and dense. Seungcheol and Chan observed from the other bed, before giving a small nod and returning to their hushed conversation, their words floating across the room in familiar cadence. 

Minghao’s hand weaved under the blankets, his touch warm and soft on Wonwoo’s ankle. It burned against Wonwoo’s skin, but not painfully. It was nice. Like a brand of protection.

“You need to stay warm, after a shock like that. Warmth goes out your feet, they're too cold,” It was so matter of fact that Wonwoo couldn’t argue even if he wanted to. He tensed, though, at the feeling of Minghao gently massaging his feet and calves, rubbing gently to activate circulation and careful to avoid where the rig had made vicious contact. 

“You don’t have to,” Won trailed off, words deep and slurred.

“No, I don’t,” Minghao replied quietly, hands never ceasing the calming pressure. 

Jun and Soonyoung shuffled in not a minute later, both having showered and changed into pajamas as well. Jun plopped himself next to Minghao, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder, so he could hold the younger while still watching Wonwoo. Soonyoung ignored everyone, however, climbing across the bed and under the thick quilt to get to Wonwoo, resolutely laying down on top of his with his head on his stomach, careful to avoid his chest. While not necessarily the most comfortable, he wanted to hold him. Wanted to shield him from the rest of the world.

“Like human bubble wrap,” he explained as everyone in the bed, with the exception of Won, half-heartedly protested the jostling caused by the dancer.

Soonyoung made eye contact with Mingyu, giving him a small, determined smile, before tapping Wonwoo’s cheek lightly. 

“Hey. Try to stay awake,” Soonyoung encouraged the other man. “Only a few more minutes. Stay with us, alright? You don’t have to say anything. But you have to keep your eyes open.” 

Wonwoo grumbled but once again at the command of his members, his eyes drifted open and he shifted, bringing his hands up to half-heartedly play with the man’s hair. Soonyoung’s heart seized up as he felt the shaking of Wonwoo’s hand trace his face. He opened his mouth to say something. To apologize or challenge or joke, but nothing fit. So, he simply pressed a kiss to his wrist, crawling up to kiss his nose, then his lips, before nuzzling back down into Wonwoo’s tummy and squeezed his eyes shut, content with feeling the others breath through the rise and fall of his stomach.

The others entering were a hazy fog of shuffling and soft voices. Cheol found his way to the head of the bed at some point, in between the wall and Mingyu, Jeonghan following soon enough, squeezing into the leader’s lap. Both ran their fingers through Wonwoo’s hair, changing the bandages without much difficulty. Just their presence together seemed to calm the room down, their confident hands and familiar voices settling Won’s confusion. Josh and Vernon appeared later as well, sitting further down the bed, against the wall, legs thrown over the Mingyu-Wonwoo-Soonyoung sandwich. Chan squeezed himself into the corner of the bed, laying with his head on Hansol’s thigh, legs across Jun’s lap, letting the older performance unit member tap and swirl patterns over his legs. 

Jihoon was the last to arrive, filing in after a teary Seokmin and a still teary but in care-taker mode Seungkwan. Seokmin managed to wiggle his way in next to Jeonghan, while Seungkwan slid in to wrap around Vernon, keeping a hand on Wonwoo’s leg. Jihoon perched on the outside edge of the bed, mirroring Cheol at the head, eyes drifting over each member before finally landing on Wonwoo. His gaze rested there for a minute, like he was waiting for something, until he nodded, letting his hand rest against the back of Soonyoung’s neck, lending any comfort he had in him to the other.

Wonwoo smiled minutes too late at Soonyoung’s joke, a small laugh escaping from his lips. Human bubble wrap. He liked it. 

He usually didn’t like feeling trapped. Feeling surrounded. But now it felt so different. The comfortable relationship they all had with each other, their own little thirteen-person unit, was so intertwined, so essential, and it was all too much. 

The laugh turned to a shaky gasp at the sheer overwhelming sensation of everything that had happened. The feeling of his hyungs running their hands through his hair, Minghao gently rubbing his feet. Hands on his legs and stomach and neck, thumbs stroking small, comforting patterns into his skin. Mingyu solid underneath him, breath lulling him into sleep. Soonyoung, a warm assured pressure on top of him, weighing him down, keeping him from floating away. They were doing so much, and he felt guilty for leeching that comfort from them. Embarrassed at how nice it felt. 

The pain was still there. It ebbed from the gash in his head, from where the rig had pulled him down and hit his shoulder and cheek and ankle, blooming into dark purple bruises. His fingers and knees still ached from the cold. His stomach still hurt. His ribs and throat burned. But it was all being muffled by the layers and layers of everything else. 

God he was just so fucking tired. It all felt like too much, and yet not enough. Like he was experiencing everything but somehow in a box.

He didn’t even realize a whine had escaped from his throat until a chorus of comforting touches and nonsense words tumbled over him, another layer of confusing and overwhelming comfort. 

“Damnit,” Seokmin sighed as tears began to track down his face again. “This is like the third time,” he laughed with no real humor behind it as Jeonghan shifted to hug him tighter, Seungkwan pulling another tissue out of his pocket. 

Wonwoo attempted to apologize but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate, so he did what he did best and stayed silent.

“Can he sleep yet?” Hansol mumbled as a pair of dry lips pressed against the back of his hand, the inside of his wrist, each fingertip. Huh. Wonwoo figured the tingles he now felt in his fingers must be from them regaining feeling after being so cold. Why was he so cold in the first place? The answer slipped away; if it were important, someone would tell him.

“How are you feeling Won?” Jihoon's voice floated over the pile. 

“Warm,” Wonwoo mumbled, sinking down further into Mingyu's chest, flipping to wrap his arms around the other man, ignoring the others groans as the jostling rippled across the bed. 

Jihoon huffed out a laugh, “Well I should hope,” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, trying not to panic at the fogginess that still lingered, mixed with the exhaustion clear on his face. “It’s been two hours. You can go to sleep now. We’ll wake you up for some food in a bit and to check in with you, okay?” 

Wonwoo nodded, eyes already drifting closed, “Tell Mingyu that if he needs to move, he can.” 

“I’m not moving, Won. I’ll be a bed for the rest of my life, I don’t care,” Mingyu mumbled in response, watching Wonwoo drift into unconsciousness before glancing up at the producer. “What are you staring at?”

Jihoon continued to smile down at the pair before dropping a kiss on Mingyu’s forehead. “You take good care of him, pup. I’m going to reheat some food, do you want anything?” Mingyu shook his head.

“I don’t know. Honestly. I don’t think I could eat anything right now.”

“You need to take care of yourself too. It’s okay. We are all okay.” 

Mingyu nodded, “I know, I know. I just need to…realize it.”

Jihoon sighed in understanding, “Yeah. I know what you mean,” He gave another smile to Mingyu before beginning to check in with the other members, shaking them gently and asking what they wanted to eat. Mingyu ran his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair one more time, checking that the bandages were secure, before letting his eyes fall shut to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate it. This is my first multi chapter fic so it's a little harrowing. More is on its way!
> 
> If there are any triggers/warnings/etc. that anyone thinks should be added please let me know.


	3. Everything That Makes Me Breathe; I hope we can all smile when the night is over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He wasn’t going to go compose or edit right now. That would be insane. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He needed to be here. But he still had to do something. Make something. Stay busy. His hands itched as he sat there watching Wonwoo fade in and out, eyes glassy and scared.
> 
> He didn’t like it."
> 
> A brief moment of Jihoon and Seungcheol, with more OT13 cuddles and caring for Wonwoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this chapter is buy one hurt/comfort fic get one free. Please excuse my small little indulgence into Cheol/Jihoon dynamics, I just think they are neat. And also a good link to next chapters events.
> 
> I don't think there are any new content warnings to be put in here but if anyone has any please let me know! 
> 
> Title is from Woozi's song "Simple" because how could I not.

Jihoon didn’t regularly fall into the care taking role, leaving that for the respective oldest and youngest of the vocal unit. What was the point of having this many members if you did everything yourself? Besides, he expressed how he felt through compositions and lyrics. Writing out what he needed to say, hearing his members sing it back to him and flavor it in their distinctive ways made it easier to process and digest emotions and events. Chord progressions and editing software were safer to him then talking. Made more sense to him than fear and confusion and love and comfort. When they heard his music, he knew they would be able to understand everything he needed them to.

He wasn’t going to go compose or edit right now. That would be insane. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He needed to be here. But he still had to do something. Make something. Stay busy. His hands itched as he sat there watching Wonwoo fade in and out, eyes glassy and scared.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like how exposed it made them all feel, realizing how easily one of them could be hurt. Realizing how easily they could all be hurt from it. Anger built up at Soonyoung for the stupid challenge, at himself for not doing anything, at Wonwoo for being so goddamn fragile.

“It shouldn’t have been him,” he whispered harshly under his breath.

“Don’t feel guilty. None of us could have known. And that’s why we had the diver,” Cheol responded calmly from behind him. Jihoon didn’t even turn, despite the leader taking him by surprise. He hadn’t even noticed anyone leaving the bedroom, let alone coming into the kitchen. The producer grimaced, continuing to prepare food, pouring soup into a pot as aggressively as possible.

“But it shouldn’t have been him,” Jihoon repeated again louder for Cheol, anger seething under his skin. He grabbed a spoon and began stirring the soup furiously, watching it spiral around and around. Cheol let him vent his anger out on the dinner for a minute or so before sighing gently, stepping forward.

“It shouldn’t have been anyone,” Cheol reminded him calmly, wrapping a hand tightly around his wrist, stopping the repetitive movement. “But it was. And trust me when I say that makes me really mad. But what can I do? What if it happened to someone else in our group? Channie was next, what if it had been him? Or Hannie? Min? Would that make it okay?”

Jihoon barked out a laugh, “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay? I just…Maybe it should have been me. Or…or Soonyoung. Or you. We are the leaders; we have a responsibility to them,” he shivered as tears began to form in the corners of his eyes, “To him.”

Cheol, with the comfort of a decade long friendship, ever so gently brushed away the tears threatening to spill with the back of a finger, “Hoon, a freak accident is different than producing songs. We protect them when performances are badly handled, or the company is threatening us. Not from concussions and drowning,” The elder let his hand trace down Jihoon’s jaw, coming down to interlock their fingers. “I know you don’t like to feel helpless. I don’t either. But I promise, you aren’t.”

“But I need to protect him.” Jihoon tensed at how pathetic he sounded but Cheol just shook his head, tracing his thumb along Jihoon's inner wrist in comforting repetitive motions. 

“You can protect him right now by staying with him. Keeping him warm and fed and keeping the other members from ripping each other to pieces,” Cheol waited for Jihoon totake a breath, deflating ever so slightly. “What happened is done, Hoon. Focus on now.”

They stood for a moment in silence, letting the bubbling of the soup and the murmurs from the bedroom fill their space until Jihoon let out a soft laugh, “When did you get so fucking smart,” Jihoon pushed Cheol as the older grinned.

“Therapy,” Cheol shrugged and Jihoon let out another chuckle, some lightness bubbling up in his chest, leveraging the burdening fear that was present not a moment before. Cheol brought a hand up to cup the other man’s face as his expression grew serious once more, “Hoonie. It will be okay. I promise. He’s safe and we are looking out for him now. He’s strong. Yeah, maybe it was worse for him because of the literal laundry list of issues the boy has, but he is going to be okay.”

Jihoon let out a long sigh before nodding, almost nuzzling into Seungcheol’s palm, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Cheol smiled gently, pulling Jihoon into a tight hug. Jihoon let himself be held by the leader, burying his face into the crook of his neck, soaking in this rare display of physical affection between them for all it was worth.

“I just. You know how useless I am at these sorts of things. What if I can’t help him?” Jihoon murmured into Sungcheol’s sweater, sounding so much younger than he had in years. Cheol tried not to let it shake him, mustering every amount of leadership he still had in him.

“You’ve known him as long as anyone else. He trusts you. You can help him just by being here, with him. Doing what you always do,” Cheol pressed a kiss to the other’s temple, before pulling back, turning to the food. “C’mon. Let’s start by making sure everyone eats.”

Jihoon let the other man pull away, taking a shaking breath and wiping his face free of tears, before joining him in puling together food for the others. They prepared the leftovers in silence, naturally splitting the work. That was their way, Jihoon guessed. They were synthesized and cohesive, paralleling each other in a perfect balance. They rarely spoke like this to one another, but they didn’t need to. When you are back-to-back against the world you don’t need to stop and turn, to talk or update the other on every single aspect. You can feel them. You're there with them.

“I just hope this is the worst of it,” Cheol muttered to Jihoon as they balanced the dishes between them, walking back to the bedroom.

Jihoon agreed, but the uncertainty hung between them like a promise.

Wonwoo woke up feeling warm. Not hot, but warm. Comfortable. Safe. He shifted, only realizing that he was entirely surrounded. Hands rested in his hips, shoulders, feet, legs. Fingers intertwined with each other, gently resting on his chest over his heart. The phrase human bubble wrap passed through his mind and his thoughts caught up to him, jumbled but comforting, remembering the members filing in, surrounding him, protecting him.

“Wonwoo?” A gentle voice murmured. They had stayed. They had stayed up for him, waited for him, looked after him.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” Wonwoo’s voice cracked, eyes glancing around to find Seungcheol already above him, carefully brushing strands of hair from his forehead, warm steady hands applying comforting pressure to his temples, dampening the pain.

“No, no need for that baby. You’re okay. We stayed because we wanted to. Just let us take care of you. You need food now,” Cheol waited for him process what was said and give a nod before pressing a kiss to his temple. As if on cue Wonwoo’s stomach rumbled. Soonyoung giggled in response, glancing up to smile at Wonwoo before rubbing his stomach, letting his hand rest under the other man’s shirt.

“I’ll get something to eat,” Wonwoo began but he was quickly shushed by Jihoon.

“Already here, Won. Chan, grab something for him to drink please. Min, help Cheollie with the rest of the bowls.”

Seokmin and the youngest quickly complied as the other members shifted and accommodated positions to eat. Mingyu had woken from his doze when Wonwoo had, and he slowly pulled himself up to sit against the headboard, cradling Wonwooup with him to hold him against his chest. The rest who were conscious enough to move filled the space, some leaving to relieve themselves or grab some more food, others shifting down to the floor to stretch and eat. But after slow movements, all thirteen returned, sitting squished in between and on top of and behind each other, till no one could say where they started, and another ended.

Seokmin returned quickly during this process, soup in hand, bypassing Wonwoo’s outstretched hands to pass the steaming bowl to Mingyu, while Chan passed a glass of juice to Wonwoo. Wonwoo felt a pang of guilt as he reached for the cup, hand tremors threatening to spill the contents on the bed. His lips began to move in an apology, but Chan grabbed his wrist, “It’s okay, it’s okay wait a moment,” the youngest murmured.

Chan took a sip of the juice, so it was less likely to spill as his hands shook. He smiled gently as he placed the cup in his outstretched hand, holding his wrist a moment longer to feel the warmth of Wonwoo’s pulse before nodding and returning back to his position next to Hansol. Mingyu held a spoonful of soup up, blowing to cool it down before lifting it to Wonwoo’s lips.

“Slowly. You haven’t eaten, you don’t want to make yourself sick.” Wonwoo let Mingyu tenderly feed him, partly because he knew Mingyu would pout if he didn’t, partly because he knew he would spill in seconds.

Seungkwan glanced up at him from where he was curled up between Seokmin and Hansol, “How are you feeling sweetheart?”

Wonwoo looked around the room, at Jun curled around Minghao and Soonyoung, at Jeonghan and Cheol carefully sharing their food, at Josh and Chan carefully handing out drinks, and an overwhelming sense of comfort soared through him. God everything hurt, and god he was tired. But every single one of them was there. And Mingyu was behind him, holding him carefully, and he knew he’d be okay.

“Warm,” he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> The next chapters will extend into what is happening a few weeks after, but plenty more Wonwoo-centric care and protection to come, with bonus other side pairings, so stay tuned!


	4. Feels Like I'm Floating in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“If you need anything, you know, just ask. Just tell me,” Josh smiled so kindly at him and Wonwoo had to stop himself from curling down into the elder’s lap. “Its okay to not be okay sometimes. I’m here to listen,” Josh placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and Wonwoo keened as he pulled away.
> 
> Wonwoo placed his own hand on his shoulder while trying to fall asleep. It wasn’t as warm." 
> 
> A series of moments featuring Wonwoo pining for affection and feeling a whole boat load of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is a break in format a little, just because this is the longest project I've worked on and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. This is a little angstier but do not worry, as you know any angst I have I return with tenfold of fluff.
> 
> Title from Seventeen's Space   
> (honestly any of the lyrics for this song would have made a good title, go listen to it!)
> 
> Triggers (skip for spoilers): mentions of bruising, cuts, scars, healing injuries, not being able to shower, and general nausea.

Wonwoo woke to the sound of grumbling, bodies shifting and jostling as alarms rang out, calling the members away to the duties outside of each other. Seungcheol had spent almost an hour on the phone with managers and directors and staff, trying to explain that he didn’t want the members working. Not after what happened.   
Apparently, a member almost dying was enough to get him out of work, but no one else. 

“Why the hell would it be,” Minghao gritted out before taking a deep breath, taking one last look at the rest of the sleeping members before pulling himself out of the bed with Joshua.

“Won?” Cheol stroked his cheek and Wonwoo woke with a confused sniffle. “Hey, we have to go, okay? Do you want any of us to stay? Shua, or Hannie? Or me?”  
Wonwoo shook his head, and Seungcheol sighed, “Okay, baby, if you need anything, just call. I’ll be back later, and we can talk about what happened, okay? Be good for the manager, he’ll be here to take you to the hospital soon.”

Wonwoo nodded into the pillow, burying himself further into the comforter.

The others shuffled around, each taking a moment to drop a kiss to Wonwoos shoulders or face or hands. He attempted to give a small smile to each, trying to show that he was okay. Mingyu was peeled away by Seungkwan and Jeonghan, lip quivering as he stared at Wonwoo like he was afraid to leave him alone. Hansol sat at the end of the bed till the last moment, watching Wonwoo carefully, quietly. Finally, Soonyoung came in, patting the younger on the shoulder.

“Vans ready. Tell the others I’ll be down in a minute,” Hansol nodded to the dancer, giving one final squeeze of Wonwoo’s hand before slipping out to find the rest.   
“Won?” Soonyoung sat on the side of the bed and Wonwoo turned on his side to face him. “Wonwoo, I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo sighed. This is what he didn’t want. People tip toeing around him. He hated it. He fucking hated it, feeling so fragile. Being a burden. Seokmin watching him like he was going to fall to pieces. Chan and Jun could barely look at him at all. And now this. This almost hurt more than the gash in his head. Soonyoung never apologized to him. They never apologized to each other; they didn’t need to. 

“Don’t blame yourself, Soon,” Wonwoo started, voice deep and vulnerable. 

“You know that’s not an option, Won,” Soonyoung gave a small, thin lipped smile. “I pushed you. I hurt you.”

Wonwoo sat up with a groan to be eye to eye with the other man, “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t cut the rigging. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s the director’s and the team who set it up. If you never pushed me, I would have been left behind a long time ago.” Wonwoo gently held Soonyoung’s chin, forcing him to lock eyes with the other, “That won’t happen again. Don’t start treating me like I’m fragile because of this. Just let it go, okay?”

Soonyoung bit his lip, turning thoughts over and over in his head before he gave a sharp, decisive nod, “Okay. Okay. I won’t. We won’t,” he pushed himself to standing, turning back to press a protective kiss to Wonwoos forehead. “But I swear, Wonwoo. None of us will let you get hurt again. Don’t see yourself as a burden. Ask for help, idiot. You don’t get to be an emotionally constipated asshole, okay?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo let Soonoyung rest their foreheads together for a moment before both pulled away in unison. “Now go, you’re going to be late.”  
He grinned, “What are they gonna do, fire me?” he swung around the door frame and Wonwoo laughed, curling back down into the bed, waiting for their manager to come to take him to the hospital.

He arrived home a few hours later, before the rest of the members finished their rehearsals. His manager had mentioned something in passing about rescheduling the music video shoot, but it was mostly finished. They had built in cushion time and were shockingly for once ahead of schedule. Just a rehearsal and some photos were being taken today, and they had easily gotten Wonwoo excused. 

He winced at the managers tone tightening over the phone to all the other people responsible for him, reporting the news that Wonwoo would need three weeks off. No singing, no dancing, no lights, no music. Lay in a dark room and let him brain figure itself out.   
Wonwoo didn’t like it. Didn’t like this focus on him. Maybe concussion rest was something he would be good at. Stay out of the way, catch up on sleep, maybe it was like a vacation. 

“Yeah. Sure,” the manager smiled gently at Wonwoo’s shaky attempted at a joke, but the tension was clear. Wonwoo knew he was causing absolute hell on the company right now. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The smell of the hospital lingered on his clothing and the bandages wrapped around his head under his beanie pressed down like the headaches he was so accustomed to. 

He dragged himself back to his room, waving off the manager’s offers of food. He wasn’t hungry. He was drained. Hospitals took it out of him, ever since he had to go regular checkups since the gastritis. He just wanted to sleep off the diagnosis and the bruises and the smell of the hospital and the knowledge that for the next three weeks he was going to be alone in the dorms as the others frantically worked to cover for him.

He flung himself into bed, shoving his phone under his pillow, quickly falling asleep like he was running away from everything the day had brought.

Days passed in and out. 

Members passed in and out too, hazy and mixed together and Wonwoo could barely keep up sometimes. He couldn’t blame them for being busy. They had to upkeep their schedules, covering for his absence smoothly, patching over concern for his wellbeing with well-practiced smiles and carefully constructed announcements.

Seungcheol cuddled into his shoulder a few days later, pouting, “Won-ah, please get better soon. Chan is no good playing games and he’s ruining our streak.”   
Wonwoo smiled thinly, promising to beat their previous records when he could finally look at screens again. His head ached with the thought. Cheol nodded petting his hair gently, fingers dancing around the bandages. 

“How’s the headaches? Nausea?” Cheol asked quietly, being the only one who truly knew how bad it could get. 

“I’ll be fine,” Wonwoo said, “Just don’t let Chan anywhere fucking near my high score.”

Wonwoo woke in a cold sweat, shaking, reaching out, finding empty sheets around him. He shivered, pulling the quilt Minghao had left a few days ago up over his shoulders. Mingyu hadn’t come home yet. His room was too quiet without Mignyu. Not that he would ever tell him. He thought of calling out for Cheol. He didn’t. The eldest needed rest. He had done too much for Wonwoo already.

“The formations are all off,” Chan lamented to him over lunch as Wonwoo poked at his rice, appetite coming and going these days, “Really we were never supposed to have an even number of people. Good thing we have practice covering for you silly,” Chan glanced at Wonwoo waiting for the elder to react.   
Wonwoo just let himself smirk at Chan’s attempts to lift his mood. He knew it was in good fun. He knew Chan. This was how Chan would tell him he was worried for the older member. He wished he knew what to say to the younger. He knew Chan wished that too sometimes. He took another bite of rice and pushed what was either nausea or guilt further down into his stomach. 

Wonwoo cried in the shower. He kept smelling blood. He didn’t know blood could smell like something. 

Josh knew Wonwoo wouldn’t talk to him. He never really had. It didn’t stop him from trying.

“If you need anything, you know, just ask. Just tell me,” Josh smiled so kindly at him and Wonwoo had to stop himself from curling down into the elder’s lap. “Its okay to not be okay sometimes. I’m here to listen,” Josh placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and Wonwoo keened as he pulled away. 

Wonwoo placed his own hand on his shoulder while trying to fall asleep. It wasn’t as warm. 

“Jun’s been collecting videos to show you when you can watch videos again,” Minghao mentioned offhandedly across the room from where he perched in Gyu’s bed.   
Wonwoo smiled, “I’m behind on a lot. I’m sure they are all really great. Quality content.”

Minghao huffed a laugh at Wonwoo’s eye roll, not quite giggling. Wonwoo was never able to make him really laugh. But his smile still warmed Wonwoo and he found himself biting back a “stay” as the younger left for rehearsal.

Showers were getting easier. The water had to be as hot as possible. He can’t dry himself off for too long. Can’t let the towel linger over his arms or ribs. He can’t think of metal, or bandages, or static voices, or blood, or chlorine, or-

“No one laughed at my joke in rehearsal today,” Hansol said in passing as they sat together on the sofa, “I missed your laugh. You always get my jokes.”  
Wonwoo bit back an “I’m sorry” as Hansol continued to skim his most recent comic book. I’m sorry I missed your joke. I’m sorry I’m not there. I didn’t laugh enough at your jokes. I didn’t appreciate you-

Hansol glanced up at Wonwoo, frozen, the words dying in his mouth.

“You okay?” Hansol asked.

“Fine,” Wonwoo lied, but Hansol seemed to take it at face value. Wonwoo didn’t know if he should be glad or not.

He didn’t cry after a week. He must be getting better. He hadn’t let his members see him cry yet, keeping it for the hours that they weren’t there, letting tears weakly track down his face as he laid in bed. He hadn’t called his parents. What would he tell them? He didn’t die or anything. It would be pointless to tell them. They would only worry. And his members knew, that’s what mattered.

“Minghao painted you a picture,” Jun mentioned, laying on Wonwoo’s bed with legs thrown over his stomach, the weight of them providing Wonwoo with more comfort than he would willingly admit. “He wants to give it to you when you’re cleared for duty.” 

Wonwoo sighed, “It’s only been a week. That’s a while to wait.”

Jun looked at him, leveled and shockingly serious, “He’s very patient. You know that.”

When he places a pillow up behind his back he can sleep better. Like the memory of someone pressed against his shoulder blades from a week ago calmed him somehow. He stole one of Mingyu’s pillows. It helped. Mingyu would help more. 

“Hyung? I put vitamins by your bed. You need to take your vitamins. And call your parents,” Seungkwan reminded again, like he had every morning since the first after the accident. He tried to take his vitamins. They went down his throat like pain killers, sticking weirdly. He hadn’t taken pain killers in so long. The headaches continued behind his eyes. The doctors said it may be due to the concussion, but because of his history with them, they would probably just continue. 

Seungkwan kept reaching out to him with nervous fluttering motions. Like he wanted to hold the elder. Wonwoo wanted to be held by him. To curl up into his lap. To let Seungkwan do all the talking for him. To let Seungkwan stroke his hair as he fell asleep. He knew the younger would do it if he asked. 

He couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t bring himself to call his parents either. 

Jeonghan had begun dropping kisses on his forehead before he left for schedules at one point when Wonwoo had been sick all those years ago. Wonwoo shouldn’t have grumbled so much. Jeonghan hadn’t kissed his forehead goodbye since the first night nine days ago. Wonwoo missed the warm press of lips against his forehead. The scent of Jeonghan’s cologne he stole from Seungcheol. The soft hand against the back of his head, fingertips brushing the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

The bandages came off today, the scar easily covered by his hair. He supposed he should be happy he didn’t have any lasting damage. His managers were more than happy. He wanted to ask someone how he should feel. He supposed he was fine. No permanent damage. His pristine image as an idol intact.   
He must be fine. He looked fine.

Seokmin watched him for a week before really saying anything. He finally piped up as Wonwoo passed through the kitchen in search of food that didn’t make his stomach turn. 

“Hyung, if you ever want, you can stay in my room,” Seokmin was quiet, shockingly so, and Wonwoo once again felt a pang of embarrassment, knowing that they changed how they acted around him. “I just…if you want personal space, I really don’t mind, I can sleep in your room, or I can share with someone. I know Gyu isn’t here often but if he ever gets on your nerves. You know.”

Wonwoo gave him a small smile. He knew how Seokmin felt about him. He felt the same. Not even opposites attract could define them. They simply always seemed to be one beat off, a syncopated rhythm. It still fit, but it didn’t come naturally. Wonwoo knew there was nothing he could do, the last couple of weeks simply pushing him further and further into his own solitary. The thought of sleeping in a room without another bed that someone could fill made Wonwoo’s heart drop. But he forced himself to chew over his response before nodding.

“Thank you. I may take you up on that,” Wonwoo murmured and Seokmin beamed. He wished he could make him smile more.

Jihoon sat with him silently for a few minutes before leaving to go back to his studio, tapping away at a game. They both needed each other’s quiet once in a while. Wonwoo broke the silence tentatively, asking if there was anything he could do to help, anything at all, hoping the shake in his voice didn’t betray him. 

“Heal,” Jihoon said simply, not even breaking his rhythm as he beat another level. Wonwoo sighed. He was trying. Really. He tried to say that, tried to explain to Jihoon how he feels. That he misses the members. Like he adapted to be with them a certain amount and since that night its shifted infinitesimally. Like he needs them more now and it scares him. They are still there, and he misses them. The feeling is too big, and it gets stuck in his ribs somewhere. Jihoon was always better at putting feelings into words. Wonwoo didn’t know where to begin. 

Soonyoung wouldn’t touch him. He handled him like he was going to break. Wonwoo wanted to scream at him. He’s not going to break. Soonyoung would never let him break. But the guilt is too clear in Soon’s eyes. Every time he sees the yellowing bruises, the wrap around his ankle, Wonwoo taking a deep breath outside of the bathroom like showering is a struggle, he pulls himself further away, giving Wonwoo the space he thinks he wants. Guilt is a fermenting thing, just growing deeper with time. 

The bruises were fading. The cuts were healing. Scabbing over like it never happened. If they acted like it never happened would they never comfort him again. They wouldn’t hug him as he fell asleep. They wouldn’t spoon feed him soup. They wouldn’t carefully reapply his bandages, wouldn’t bring him snacks from the convenience store, wouldn’t stop through his room just to make sure he talked to someone at least once a day.

Wonwoo shook himself from the thought. They shouldn’t have to. He couldn’t make them do that. He was fine. He wants to go back to rehearsals. To moving. To recording. He should be allowed back. He was fine.

They left for rehearsal, Mingyu giving him a small smile on his way out. Wonwoo smiled back. He was fine. He once again was not allowed to go watch, even though he had asked to multiple times now.

“Not until the doctor says you’re good to go,” Mingyu reminded him. 

“Then stay with me until I am,” Wonwoo bit back, but Mingyu has already left in a whirlwind, taking the last bit of comfort with him.

Wonwoo fell asleep around 2pm, smothering the sounds of traffic in the distance with a comforter over his head, trying to fill the emptiness of the dark room by hugging a pillow, pretending someone was still there with him. Just stepping away for a moment. 

How fucking pathetic. He pushed the pillow away, flopping over and shutting his eyes tightly, letting himself drift into yet another nap.

He was fine.

Days passed in and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter was a little all over the place, I basically wrote the whole fic...and then decided I hated it and rewrote it, so I've been reworking sections and I just needed a transition and this kinda happened. I've been really nervous about my writing recently so I hope this is enjoyable! Like I said, there is more fluff (and more hurt/comfort) to come.


	5. I Am Here, You Suffered A Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If he kept telling himself, it would come true. He was fine. He would hold them back if it kept being like this. He’d fall behind. He’d have to leave them. 
> 
> He was fine. He had to be fine. 
> 
> He would prove it."
> 
> A short hurt/comfort based on the previous chapter- Wonwoo is starting to figure out that maybe he isn't okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have had a tough few weeks haven't we? I hadn't originally planned on this chapter but it got stuck in my head so here we are. If for any reason below you want to skip it, no hard feelings. Please keep yourself safe and comfortable- reading fics should be fun (or at least, you know, relaxing or cathartic). Title is from Seventeen's Hug.
> 
> This is some good old fashioned Meanie/Minwon/Mingyu&Wonwoo. 
> 
> CW: Mentions of drowning, near death experiences, bruises, suggested dissociation, and panic attacks. Basically, Wonwoo triggers himself into a panic attack in the shower and Mingyu finds him and comforts him.

Wonwoo woke up like he had for the past weeks, head aching and stomach empty, once again feeling that his stupid dorm bed was too big. He glanced at the clock, groaning. Rehearsal would be done soon. And he had slept through it. Once again, he had to admit it was probably a good thing he didn’t go. 

Then why did it annoy him so much.

He let his brain wander, poking at the situation. Not like he had anything else to do. Anything else to think about. Everything was going back to normal, slowly but surely. Wonwoo tried to push down his annoyance at being excused from once again rehearsal. It made sense. Not like he could sit and watch, not for another few days at least. Maybe staying at home in his regular silence was really a blessing; if the others weren’t there no one would look at him with pity or fear. No one would run gentle hands along his arm and make him want to curl into their chests and be held. No one would remind him to call his parents. 

He really should.

But they know he’s fine. He doesn’t need to tell his parents he almost died. And after all, he didn’t see a reason why he should tell them. He was fine now. If he called, they would be worried. If he didn’t call, then they wouldn’t know, and they wouldn’t worry unnecessarily.

He sighed, beginning to unwind himself from the blankets Joshua had left piled on his bed, downing the vitamins and water that were placed on his bed side table, most likely the work of Seungkwan. The others would be home any minute from rehearsal, probably bringing him pastries or some sort of treat. He wasn’t allowed caffeine, and they knew it was taking a toll on him, making him moody and lethargic. Just another way he was causing problems. 

Standing and stretching may have been a mistake and he winced at the dull ache that flashed through his head at the motion, joints cracking and muscles protesting. He didn’t think about it; it was simply second nature to him at this point.

He began the slow trek down the hall to the shower. He knew should shower before they got home- they would be sweaty from rehearsal and working out and they didn’t need him being sweaty and gross from just laying in bed, reminding them all of how useless he was.

He stopped outside the door, frozen in place. He always remembered the final second before stepping into the bathroom, body freezing before he even realized.  
He shook himself. If he started thinking about it, it would get worse. “It was just a shower. Show them you can fucking shower,” he mumbled to himself, taking a deep breath and opening the bathroom door.

The bathroom lights flickered on and he turned the shower as hot as he could stand- he knew the others wouldn’t give him a hard time if he used up all the hot water. Cold water made him feel nervous recently. Not that he would tell anyone that.

He pulled off his clothes carelessly, throwing them onto the counter next to his towel, and as he stepped into the warm spray, letting out a sigh as the steam began to fill the room in a cloud of white. He didn’t like it, being in his own head this much. He hadn’t comprehended how much he really talked to the others. It seemed that just as soon as he had begun to come out of his shell, to talk the others for the first time in years, the concussion forced him to regress, sapping the progress out from under him.

“One more week and you’ll be okay,” he kept repeating to himself, over and over, but it was useless. He already felt okay. His head ached sometimes, like today, but honestly that wasn’t new. He felt nauseous, but that had been a daily occurrence for years. He’d been going to rehearsals with sore joints and headaches for years now. How could he know he was getting better if he felt the same as before, just without his books and shows and being allowed to leave the goddamn dorm?

He forced himself to relax under the warm spray of the water, trying to think about something else. Anything other than how lonely he suddenly felt. The thought of -water-drowning-blood-fear-pool- flashed through his mind and he sighed. “Anything else but that, idiot,” he scolded himself. He couldn’t be scared of water. He had been in a pool, not a shower. And he was fine anyways. 

If he kept telling himself, it would come true. And the shower wouldn’t smell like chlorine, and he wouldn’t think there was blood washing down the drain, and he wouldn’t have a headache or need Cheol to wash his hair for him or for Jeonghan to wait outside of the shower to hug in him dry with a fluffy towel. So fucking stupid. He was fine. He would hold them back if it kept being like this. He’d fall behind. He’d have to leave them. 

He was fine. He had to be fine. 

He would prove it.

He twisted the knob angrily, turning it as far is it would go to cold.

The spray of water turned icy, and the breath was knocked out of him. Panic blurred his vision as he curled over, leaning against the wall, fear spreading through his body. The water ran down his face, covering his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. His chest heaved with the effort as he sobbed.

Why was he scared? It was a shower. Fuck it, why was he so scared? His skin was too tight, too loose. His hair was wet. Why was his hair wet? Was he still under water? Why did his head hurt? Why did it still hurt? He was fine. He gripped onto himself, fingernails digging into his ribs and arms, forcing himself to stand in the spray. He was fine. He was fine and if he got out that would be admitting he wasn’t okay.

Another sob ripped through his body, water running down his face into his open mouth. He stood there, shaking, bile rising in his throat as the panic melted from adrenaline fueled bravery to dark, seething fear. He waited, waited, waited, forcing himself to stand in the spray. To prove he could handle it. 

After what was seconds, what felt like hours, he threw himself out of the shower, grabbing his towel and rubbing his face, his hair, wanting to be dry and not scared and just okay. 

His eyes met his own in the mirror and it all hit him at once. His eyes were red from crying, with dark circles underneath, his lips chapped raw. Red healing scars from where the rig had pulled him down still stood stark against his skin. His hands shook and water dripped down his back and he couldn’t breathe. 

He had experienced being out of breath before, lying on the ground panting after rehearsals or performances. He had thought it was bad then. But he had gasped, and water had filled his lungs. 

He had begged for air and there was none.

His hands shook as he let out a whimper, curling in on himself, collapsing down to the floor, towel limply wrapped around himself. He could have died. It was just hitting him now. It had hit the others sooner. They watched him go under. His throat was raw, his lungs were tight. He hadn’t eaten anything since, had he? He had vomited. He shook the smell of chlorine and vomit still lingered. How pathetic. A sob wracked through his body.

He woke to a knock on the door. He was cold and stiff and everything hurt. There was tile under him. Oh. The bathroom. Had he fallen asleep in the bathroom? He hadn’t done that in years.

“Hyung?” A knock came at the door. Wonwoo sat up, curling in on himself, throat caught up between begging the person to come in and screaming at them to go away. No one should be home. No one could see him like this. “Hyung? Can I come in?”

Won whimpered, shaking his head. It was Mingyu. He can’t come in he wasn’t fucking dressed, he was shaking, and he couldn’t put Mingyu through this again. It was mortifying. He tried to shout out, to explain, to tell Gyu to go away, but it all got stuck in his throat.

“Hyung? Won? Wonwoo please it’s me…” Mingyu stood, ear pressed against the door, listening only to the sound of running water and short terrified breaths. “Won, if you don’t say anything in ten seconds, I’m coming in,” Mingyu declared, waiting.

He only made it five seconds. 

Wonwoo whined, pressing his head into his hands, the room spinning, and Mingyu pushed in, eyes taking in the small room before landing on the huddled body on the floor. “Won? Oh sweetheart…” 

Mingyu fell to the floor in front of him, “Won? You with me?”

Wonwoo nodded, whimpering. Not again. He couldn’t do this again, not to Mingyu. 

“Won, it’s okay. Let me help, okay? God, I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so sorry we should have been here. Shit. Shit, hang on,” Mingyu forced himself to remain calm. Being frantic wouldn’t help Wonwoo. He turned the shower off before jogging out to the room, grabbing boxers and one of his t-shirts that he knew Wonwoo loved, though would never admit it, before coming back into the bathroom.

Wonwoo was still curled tight up into himself but relaxed as soon as Mingyu placed a careful hand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s get you dressed,” Mingyu muttered, toweling him off once again before helping him into the pajamas. Part of it was absolutely mortifying, but he was too tired to really care. Mingyu approached the situation calmly, making no comment or even noticing how awkward it could have been. Just like the first night. Somehow Mingyu had a way of being so goddamn helpful and nonchalant all at the same time. Like it was second nature to find his member curled up in the bathroom. 

Mingyu ushered him back to the room, thankful that he had rushed home while the others had stopped to grab food. Wonwoo clung to him as they made their way down the hall to their room, Mingyu guiding Wonwoo to the bed, forgoing trying to make Wonwoo let go, instead just crawling in after him and hiking the comforter up around their shoulders. Wonwoo’s body shook, exhaustion and cold tremoring over his body and they laid in relative silence, Mingyu just rubbing his back and holding him close. He only paused momentarily to text Cheol an update, informing him to keep the other members at a distance for a bit, but begging for some dinner to be left for them both. 

It was a few minutes later and a good number of texts from Cheol when Wonwoo finally calmed down. He no longer felt panicked and frozen in place, like the floor was falling out from under him, warmth now seeping through his toes and fingertips, Mingyu holding him and breathing deeply, letting their heart beats match up. Mingyu would keep him safe. He shifted, letting Mingyu’s fingers dance over his face, fingertips tracing his cupids bow, skirting around the bruises purpling his cheek. He had missed this contact. He had missed them. He had missed Mingyu.

“Hey,” Mingyu whispered.

“Hey,” Won’s voice cracked in response.

“I guess everything comes in twos, huh?” Mingyu murmured and Wonwoo sniffled out a laugh.

“Let’s hope three times isn’t the charm,” he squeezed his eyes shut as Mingyu giggled softly, focusing on how his chest rose and fell with the response, “I don’t think I want to make you dress me after every shower.” 

Mingyu opened his mouth to respond but the “I don’t mind” stayed on his tongue as he chose to simply nod, bringing a hand up to card through his hair and run fingertips along the shell of his ear and jaw. They fell silent, the room filled with the quiet hum of the traffic outside and their breaths, one slow and steady, one still ragged.

Mingyu finally took a deep breath, hand resting at the back pf his neck and Wonwoo already knew what was coming. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Mingyu asked, trying to keep his voice low and hand steady. Ah, there it was. The other man snuggled down closer, burying his head into the other’s chest, focusing on the bunt nails gently scratching the short hairs at the base of his skull. He knew he should give some explanation to Mignyu, after everything he had put the other man through recently. Gyu deserved it. Gyu deserved better. 

“I…I hate this. I’ve still got another week. I’m fucking useless for three weeks and I…I guess it just got to me,” Wonwoo mumbled, almost apologetically and Mingyu nodded in immediate understanding. 

“You’re not useless, hyung. You’re not. You’ve been healing for three weeks. You need that. We should be allowed to take time off with you. But it’s a good thing, that you have time to heal. That you have twelve of us to cover for you. And we have cushion time between promotions, nothing had been announced yet, so you can take all the time you need,” Mingyu gave him a small smile and Wonwoo couldn’t help but return it, weak as it was. 

Gyu beamed at that, continuing to run a hand through the hairs at the base of his skull and Wonwoo melted into him, a sudden surge of emotions welling up in him, bubbling in his chest. He wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to find Cheol or Jeonghan and explain to them what happened. He wanted Soonyoung to just be here and make him laugh not be scared and guilty. He wanted to explain, and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Gyu,” Wonwoo whimpered as he squeezed his eyes. He hadn’t cried in front of Gyu. He hadn’t cried in front of any of them. He wasn’t going to start now. He needed to get through this on his own. 

“Hey, hey baby none of that, right? None of that you have nothing to apologize for. That took a lot out of you, huh? It’s okay. Just sleep now. We will figure this out later, okay?” Mingyu pressed gentle kisses against Wonwoo’s hair and forehead, hands rubbing comforting circles up and down his back until the elder fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! All of your kind comments and kudos and bookmarks have really been so wonderful to receive and have brought me so much joy. This is very cheesy but writing this has let me vent a lot of really challenging feelings and stuff, and the fact that I can share it with others is incredible. We are heading towards a little bit more hurt Wonwoo in future chapters, and then entire chapters of fluff are on the horizon. 
> 
> (Please please please, do not mess around with known or potential triggers, either for yourself or someone else, no matter how much something hurts or is confusing or doesn't feel right. I would recommend going and looking up what to do for someone during panic attacks, and the difference between panic and anxiety attacks when you have a moment. Check out NHSinform, or healthline.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This popped into my head almost a year ago now when I started getting into Seventeen and I hope it has grown to more accurately represent their group dynamics and personalities. 
> 
> I know literally none of this accurate in how a MV shoot would be done, or even EMTs, or like, anything, but listen. I wanted to write fluff and I needed some drama to start that out.
> 
> This is my first multi chapter fic, so stay tuned!
> 
> (also please note I don't want this to happen to the members, this wouldn't ever happen to them, this isn't their relationship. I acknowledge these are real people, we are just in the middle of a pandemic and I needed SOMETHING to process loneliness and separation and trauma alright?) (also yes the the title is taken from the Swimming Fool lyrics but I felt like calling it Swimming Fool would be insensitive).


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